Memories in Rain
by Violet Nyte
Summary: 1x2, death-fic It seems a blasphemy, what we do. Bringing violence and death to the peaceful skies, drenching such beauty with blood... one-shot


* * *

LSE 10-27-04  
(Memories in Rain)  
rated: PG13 - violence, content  
shounen-ai/yaoi  
  
Memories in Rain  
  
-  
  
Staccato.  
  
Rain drops on wet grey pavement.  
  
Black boots to a puddle, scattering silver droplets, mud and water splattering faded denim.  
  
_Please let it not be too late._

* * *

A wind whispered through Heero's hair as he turned, searching vainly into the midnight evening for something, something that wouldn't be there no matter how many times he looked. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from looking even one last time. Ahead of him, Quatre stopped walking and turned as well, aquamarine eyes keen on the lone ex-pilot's lean form so stiff and unyielding to the woes of time.  
  
_Give, Heero,_ the blonde silently urged. _It's not a weakness..._  
  
Heero turned back around and stuffed his hands into the pockets of faded jeans. Without a work, he walked pass Quatre to the entry doors. Equally silent, Quatre followed.  
  
_What is weakness?_

* * *

Harsh breath raging against the cool night, a white puff obliterated by the falling rain. Soaked green tank-top offering little warmth.  
  
_Which way now? Where do I..._  
  
Head swiveling, cobalt eyes searching. Water dripping down across an intent face, clinging to dark brown hair.

* * *

"Do you remember?" a soft voice whispered.  
  
Heero turned his head to catch the cadences of that voice, so sweet and velvet to his ears. "Hn?"  
  
"The first night we made love, the stars were this bright."  
  
A pale hand extended, as if trying to grasp the heavens. Heero reached up and captured the hand, fingers intertwining effortlessly.  
  
"It seems a blasphemy, what we do. Bringing violence and death to the peaceful skies, drenching such beauty blood. Do you wonder, Heero, if the stars weep? Is that... rain?"

* * *

Red flames licking the sky, black smoke thick. Distant screams and sirens ignored. The thudding of Gundams far away winning.  
  
A shout. Without turning, drawing a gun and firing. Blood splattering to the ground, rivulets of crimson seeping forward to lap at boots. Killer. Killer! Good boy.  
  
It doesn't matter. _War is hell._

* * *

The automatic doors opened with a soft swoosh, Quatre and Heero passing through into the shuttleport. Muzak drifted inoffensively through the air, the warm and lighted interior a surreal contrast to the bleak, cold black outside. A single attendant stood at the desk, watching them with a cheery smile that hid her exhaustion.  
  
"Any bags to check?" she said, looking at the two of them.  
  
Quatre shook his head, indicating the small duffle bag slung over Heero's shoulder. "Just this."  
  
"Have a pleasant flight."  
  
"What's in there?" Quatre asked as they moved away from the desk.  
  
They were on the escalators gliding up when Heero responded, "My laptop."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
Heero lied easily, "No."

* * *

Screaming a name into the battle. Hoping through the chaos for an answer never comes. Running forward through a wet rain, through thick black smoke that chokes.  
  
Nearly missing it in the confusion. Slowly. Staring.  
  
A thick chestnut, stained dark with blood.

* * *

The bedroom was dark, lit only by pale moonlight evading through thin curtains, and quiet but for the whisper of sheets rustling. A slender hand entwined through a long fall of wavy chestnut, untangling the last vestiges of a braid. "Beautiful," he whispered, lips moving feather-soft against a curve of shoulder.  
  
Kisses captured further words as hands explored across a soft flesh and defined muscles, movements sleek and powerful. The two bodies moved as one in the darkness, each knowing the other's form with intimacy. A sudden cry pierced the quiet, followed by breathless gasps.  
  
"Daijoubu desu ka?"  
  
"English, Heero," he answered with a soft chuckle, setting a finger between worried cobalts as he stretched pleasantly.  
  
Hands gripped lean thighs, a voice accustomed to the cries of war softened to a faint murmur. "Kimi ga hoshii."  
  
"E-English...!" the admonishment disappearing into a throaty moan of approval.  
  
"Itsumo aishiteru."

* * *

A hesitant footstep into a puddle. Water flying as he broke into a run.  
  
A pile of rubble. What did it use to be? Part of the control center, filled with electronics that sparked blue with the rain's pattering.  
  
Screaming a name again as hands throw off the debris to uncover a wan and broken form. Whispering denials.  
  
Red flows into the rain like tears.

* * *

"Shuttle flight 4567 to L2..."  
  
Quatre stood from the hard plastic chair and stretched slightly. "That's you. Ready?"  
  
Heero shouldered his duffle and stared out at the empty terminal. The lone night janitor ran a buffer over the hallway to the lulling melody of the intercom music. A few sleepy passengers straggled towards the door, where a perky flight attendant collected their tickets.  
  
"Are you going to be all right?" Quatre asked.  
  
"Does it matter?" came the reply, too soft to be heard.

* * *

Bloodied and ruined, a wraith amidst the rubble. Trembling arms betray nerves as the body is huddled close. Shallow gasps puff into the cold as glazed amethyst open.  
  
_No. It can't be. _  
  
_Heero...?_  
  
_Don't speak. Don't..._

* * *

"What are you doing up?" he asked, leaning lazily against the doorway.  
  
Skilled hands turned the sleek weapon over several times before setting it aside. Knuckles popped once before the soft sound of typing ran an under-current through the room. "Preparing for the mission."  
  
The lithe form in the doorway moved forward, braid swaying exotically along his back like a snake. "You should be resting, Heero. You lost a lot of blood, after all."  
  
"I'm fine," came the reply, tone short. Heero glanced over the glowing screen of his laptop and scowled. "We three are the only ones available for this mission."  
  
A slender brow rose above doubtful violet eyes, "Quatre agreed?"  
  
"We'll go in on foot. He'll use Sandrock."  
  
His hand lifted in mock salute. "You got it."

* * *

_You'll be fine! Hang on._  
  
Fingertips light across pale skin, brushing aside chestnut hair slicked from rain and stiff with drying blood.  
  
_The mission...?_  
  
A head bowed with grief shaking in denial. _Forget about the mission!_  
  
A smile struggles through the pain as large amethyst orbs focus. _That's not like you, Heero..._

* * *

Just before the entrance, Quatre stopped walking and hovered hesitantly. "I'll be here Friday to pick you up, okay?"  
  
"Hn," Heero muttered as he held out his ticket for the attendant.  
  
Quatre watched with an uneasy feeling deep within. _I know something's wrong,_ the blonde thought, hand rising to his throat. Without a backwards glance, Heero boarded his shuttle, shoulders bent with the silent weight he carried. "Why won't you cry?" Quatre whispered.  
  
_I know you loved..._

* * *

Heavy rain lightens. The distant battle dims. Ragged breathing catches, rough coughs shaking a frail form.  
  
_You'll be all right._  
  
_Don't kid yourself, Heero. I may run... hide... _  
  
Dark brown hair. Droplets of water scattering. Shaking a fierce denial of the world. _Don't talk! Lie still._  
  
Gentle smile. _But I never... lie._

* * *

With a low, quiet moan of happiness he stretched, limbs entangling under the blanket. He rolled slightly, pressing thighs close as hands explored over a lean, muscular expanse of chest. "Mm, Heero?"  
  
Austere cobalt eyes opened. "Hn?"  
  
Chestnut hair brushed feather-soft against smooth skin and he snuggled closer, resting a cheek along the gentle slope of Heero's shoulder. "Do you ever think about after the war?"  
  
"No," came the answer, short and gruff.  
  
A head lifted from its resting place as his smile tilted into a frown. "Never, Heero?"  
  
"I'm a soldier. What am I without war?"  
  
The room fell to uneasy silence before soft lips pressed gently to tanned skin in comfort. "You're more than that, Heero. You're mine."  
  
"And after the war?"  
  
"Now, then, and forever."

* * *

The sounds of mecha fighting disappear. Only rain and the wail of alarms, alarms that scream to guards killed. A rapidly thinning night ends with victory for Gundam.  
  
_You can't..._  
  
_Everyone dies sometime, Heero._  
  
_Not you!_

* * *

The shuttleport on L2 resembled the one on Earth, only with a fine patina of dust over everything and the scent of poverty clinging thickly. Piles of rubbish and cloth in the corners likely held bodies, huddled for warmth. _Is this where you grew up...?_  
  
Heero made his way into the dim afternoon, pulling out a sheet of paper with rough directions over it. Streets seemed to be alighted haphazardly without any real plan, and more than half the buildings were crumbled or run-down, yet people still occupied them. Street orphans ran through the dark alleys and leapt over the bodies of those who couldn't survive the night.  
  
After nearly an hour of walking, he dared ask for directions from a young mother, her children gathered close.  
  
"You'll no be findin' anyone there!" she called as he started walking away. "Not since the Massacre!"

* * *

_Stay with me._  
  
_Keep your eyes open._  
  
_Please..._

* * *

The small duffle bag made a hollow thunk as it hit the wall, carelessly slung on to the bunk by its owner. "Hey there, how's the leg?"  
  
"I mean, you set it yourself and everything. Just, ker-chink! ...All right, or don't talk. Do you like creeping out people? You're good at it, at least. Bet it makes you great at poker, with a face like that. I'm pretty good at poker, though you'd never think it to look at me. That's actually why I do so well, everyone just thinks they know..."  
  
Heero lifted his eyes from the screen of his laptop. "Do you want something?"  
  
He received a grin in response. "Not really, I guess. So you're a Gundam pilot like me, eh? Where are you from? ...I'm from L2, the colonies, you know? Space baby, all the way. It's a pretty shitty place, though. Crime and poverty and all that. Still, I kinda like it. Home, and all that. That's life on the colonies, you're born there, you live there, and then you die. Guess I won't be going back home, though, if I die out here fighting. It must be lonely to die in space..."

* * *

Struggled breathing. Rain falls, silver streaks against the sky.  
  
_Kimi nashi ja ikirare nai!  
  
Zutto... zutto kimi o omotteru..._  
  
Softly spoken. _English, Heero._  
  
Lips meet desperately. Tenderly. Tears mingle with rain.  
  
The whisper comes weakly before amethysts close. _Aishiteru._  
  
Cobalts stare as the smile fades. Breathing catches. Releases.  
  
_...I love you._

* * *

The building remained after so many years, though it and the area surrounding held little but rubble. A large silver cross, the only sign that of what the debris use to be, slanted out of the rocks, the metal glinting in the lazy colonial sun. Heero chose his steps carefully over the twisted remains, heading for that cross.  
  
Kneeling, Heero took the duffle bag from over his shoulder. Intense eyes studied every fold and crease of the fabric before, after an eternity, he slid across the zipper. With great reverence, he drew out a rather plain metal container; a small urn. Heero looked up at the great cross, battered and scarred from the violence wrought to it, and set the urn at the base.  
  
"You'll never be lonely here," Heero whispered as he touched a hand to his chest. Beneath his shirt he could feel the ridged outline of a thin linked chain. Carefully, he drew out the simple cross necklace and lifted it from around his neck. He started to set it with the urn but hesitated, unwilling to release the chain.  
  
Bowing his head slightly, Heero clutched the necklace close and tried to hold back a desolate cry without success.

* * *

A lone figure hunches by a battered and bloodied body amid destruction and chaos. Fires lick the rain-drenched sky.  
  
A small blond boy approaches on foot, running with frantic haste until the scene becomes clear. Soft words of comfort are lost on a broken soul. Rain, not tears, trace paths from cobalt eyes.

* * *

"Heero? Where did you get that necklace?"  
  
He turned from looking out the window to meet Quatre's eyes. He held the gaze until aquamarines had to pull away, looking back to the road. The shuttleport far in the distance hardly stood out against the inky midnight world, blurred with a drizzling rain.  
  
"I've always had it."  
  
"It looks like the one Duo wore."  
  
Heero turned back to window. "Does it?"

* * *

_Ne, Heero?  
  
I've realized something.  
  
Hey, stop typing and look at me.  
  
This is important! Heero...!  
  
Okay, fine. I love you.  
  
That got your attention! Aw, don't glare like that.  
  
...Aishiteru, baka.  
  
What's that mean? Heero! You know I hate it when you speak in Japanese... speak English! Hey, don't just walk off. Hey!  
  
Ne, Heero!  
  
What's it mean?_  
  
-  
  
-

* * *

Author's Notes:  
Japanese - English  
  
Daijoubu desu ka - Are you okay?  
Kimi ga hoshii - I want you  
Itsumo aishiteru - I love you always/forever  
Kimi nashi ja ikirare nai - I can't live without you  
Zutto kimi o omotteru - I will always love you  
Aishiteru - I love you  
  
Feedback/reviews are very much appreciated!  
copyright 2004 - Gundam Wing and characters copyright other people.  
LSE - Violet Nyte )  
my website needs a home!


End file.
